


The Simplest Answer

by castiowl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Blow Jobs, Christmas, College, Coming Out, Doctor Who References, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gay Steve Rogers, Growing Up Together, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, LGBT, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Mutual Pining, POV Steve Rogers, Parties, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Realization, Roommates, Slow Burn, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiowl/pseuds/castiowl
Summary: Steve doesn’t think about the first ten Christmases of his life because, in the grand scheme of things, they don’t matter much. The eleventh Christmas, however, is when things really come into focus because it’s on his eleventh Christmas that Steve Rogers meets Bucky Barnes.





	

Steve doesn’t think about the first ten Christmases of his life because, in the grand scheme of things, they don’t matter much.

Actually, a voice in the back his head niggles, these are some of the more important Christmases.

Well, fine. But they’re depressing, there’s no denying that, so Steve doesn’t think about those first ten Christmases.

11

The eleventh Christmas, however, is when things really come into focus because it’s on his eleventh Christmas that Steve Rogers meets Bucky Barnes.

Steve is trudging through the snow on his way to the cornerstore, which he isn’t even sure is open, but his mom is having a good day and those are so few recently. She’d lamented in her thin, frail voice that it was a shame they hadn’t gotten any real Christmas food, but that it was all right, really, they would make do with whatever canned soup was in the pantry.

Steve can’t stand for that. When she went down for a mid-afternoon nap, he snuck out and is now knee-deep in unplowed snow on the way to a market twenty minutes away that may be closed.

His luck is turning, maybe, because the store is open. An Indian man with a bright smile greets him and wishes him a merry Christmas. Steve grabs a bag of instant mashed potatoes, a can of corn, and turkey deli meat. He’s not sure his mom will be able to stomach anything more than the potatoes, but it’s better than nothing. Then, figuring they’ll be homebound for a while still, he grabs a few items they’re short on. 

It starts snowing again on his walk back and he pulls his threadbare jacket closer, tucking his chin into the collar and pulling his hat low over his forehead. It makes it hard to see and a car rumbles past without his noticing. He jumps a step back to avoid getting sprayed by a big slush puddle on the side of the road and the sharp movement causes the bottom of his bag to tear and his groceries fall unceremoniously into a snow pile.

Steve lets out a long breath before bending over to pick up the corn, but his hand bumps into another and Steve shoots straight up in surprise. There’s a boy around Steve’s age bundled up in winter gear. Behind him is a girl on a bright pink sled. She’s staring at the two boys with wide, dark eyes in silence.

“Here,” the boy says and holds out the can of corn to Steve. 

“Thanks,” Steve says and takes it.

“You gonna be able to carry all that?”

“Yeah.” Steve sounds much more sure than he feels. He looks at the groceries and frowns.

“Well, hey, why don’t you pile it on the sled? We’ll drag it to… wherever you’re going.”

Steve looks at the boy again. He’s grinning with his thumb jutting toward the sled behind him.

“Becca won’t mind,” the boy adds, glancing back at the little girl who’s grown bored with the conversation and is now patting the snow down with her mittened hands.

“Okay,” Steve says.

Together, they pile the groceries on the sled in front of the girl who immediately latches her short arms around the stack like it’s her job to keep it from tumbling off. Then, they set off.

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” the boy says. “That’s my little sister Becca. We’re heading over to the big hill to sled. You ever been?”

“Oh, um, no. And I’m Steve.”

“You’ve never been?” Bucky asks, flabbergasted. “How’s that possible? You don’t live too far away, do you?”

“Just up this street. Last house on the left,” Steve replies, motioning ahead.

“Seriously? I’m just three streets that way.” Bucky points. “I’m surprised we haven’t met. But I go to the Catholic school in Montgomery, so I guess that’s why.”

Steve listens while Bucky talks. And Bucky loves to talk. He goes on about his family and his plans for Christmas and his little sister and the best places for sledding and how awful school uniforms are. He tells Steve that he’s just moved from Indiana at the beginning of the year, so he doesn’t know many people and maybe they could be friends and he wants to give Steve his phone number when they get to the house so they can call each other because Steve seems like a cool guy.

Steve listens, Bucky talks. 

That’s how it always is.

12

The next year, Steve and Bucky make cookies for Santa. They’re too old to believe, but for Sarah’s sake, they pretend. It isn’t hard when her chemo-weary eyes are watching them spread far too much icing on one half and sneaking entire mouthfuls of the other.

13

Steve’s thirteenth Christmas is in stark contrast to the past few he remembers. Sarah’s cancer is in remission and they spend the morning pressing their feet against each other in the window nook, watching the snow fall. Later, Steve and Bucky shovel the driveway for her, which takes a few hours longer than it should on account of the numerous times Steve has to stop to catch his breath. Bucky takes these opportunities to collapse in snow piles and spread his arms and legs wide to create angels and, more likely, to make Steve laugh.

14

They take their shovels on the road, so to speak, making five bucks apiece per neighbor’s driveway. Bucky’s friend Theresa “call me Terry” joins them later and doesn’t say anything about Steve’s labored breathing or hacking coughs. She’s nice, or maybe Bucky mentioned something without Steve knowing, but it’s probably why Bucky spends some of his well-earned money to buy her a hot chocolate from the café in town.

15

It’s strange being shifted to the periphery of someone’s life after so long being the centerpiece. Steve knows that rationally he should be pleased for Bucky. Terry’s an amazing girl who keeps up with Bucky’s quick wit and hits back twice as hard. She likes Steve, too, which he recognizes is a difficult task for even the most genial of folks. He tends to raise the hackles of everyone around without even meaning to half the time.

Steve has grand expectations for his first year of high school that entirely hinge on the fact that he and Bucky will finally be going to the same school. But Bucky, being a year ahead, already has his group of friends and Steve fits about as well as a third wheel. Which is fine, when it comes down to it, because Steve is better on his own. It gives him the space needed to decide that he is absolutely in love with his best friend Bucky Barnes. And it gives him the time needed to decide that he can never ever tell him.

Bucky spends most of Christmas day at the Rogers’ place, folded up in his favorite armchair, talking animatedly about one thing or another; Steve stops listening at some point and is only hearing the short, breathy laugh Bucky makes when he’s told a joke only he thinks is funny or the way his voice modulates cartoonishly high when he’s imitating his little sister. Every once in awhile, his eyes will find Steve’s and Steve can feel his whole face warm at the attention, afraid he’s been caught in the act of staring, but then Bucky’s attention drifts elsewhere. Steve listens. He listens and listens and listens and Bucky talks and Steve can’t look away.

16

Coming out to his mom is much easier than Steve ever anticipates and by Christmas they’ve fallen into a playful back-and-forth that involves a lot of references to showtunes Sarah decides Steve _must_ know now and then blasting them every morning to force him out of bed. For Christmas, he’s awakened by a song from _Cats_. The fact that he knows that much is a credit to his mother’s insistence.

Bucky’s already there with a backpack full of sloppily-wrapped presents from his family to theirs. He cocks an eyebrow at Steve behind Sarah’s back and motions his head toward the stereo that’s now doling out Elphaba’s “Defying Gravity” number. (Steve won’t ever admit he loves this song.) Steve rolls his eyes in response.

Bucky curls up in his favorite chair and nods off in the middle of a lackluster conversation. Bucky doesn’t sleep well these days, although he doesn’t say as much. His parents are going through a rough patch and he’s spending more and more time at the Rogers’ to escape the fighting. Sarah gives Steve a knowing look before dropping a blanket over him and heading into the kitchen. 

Sarah thinks Steve ought to just tell Bucky the truth because Bucky’s a great kid and Steve’s best friend and he’d never be cruel to Steve and honestly, nothing’s going to change, Steven, you’re thinking too hard about this.

But Steve’s afraid once he opens his mouth and starts spilling the truth, he won’t be able to stop. And since Bucky and Terry are going so strong, it hardly seems appropriate. 

Selfishly, he knows it’s because of all he’ll lose once he opens his mouth. Arms around his neck and sleepovers they’re probably too old for now anyway. The way Bucky effortlessly pinches his side to get him to squirm away, Bucky’s warm hand ruffling Steve’s hair just to get an indignant reaction from him. He’s afraid Bucky will turn polite, like he is with the half dozen girls chasing him throughout the school year, offering to help him with homework or to form study groups in spite of the fact that everyone knows Bucky’s already at the top of his class. Steve won’t be a desperate girl chasing after Bucky for attention.

Even though half the time he feels that way anyway.

Sarah always says “the simplest answer is usually the right one” and to anyone else it might seem the simplest answer is to tell Bucky everything, have it out in the open so they can finally get to some sort of conclusion, but…

But the simplest answer isn’t always the easy answer and for all Steve’s hardheaded bravery, this one thing scares him half to death.

17

Sarah’s sick again.

Sarah’s sick again and there’s nothing Steve can do about it.

Sarah’s sick again and this time it’s in her bones and her organs and in their home. Steve can feel it crawling along the walls, through his bedroom door and into his dreams. 

Bucky’s over every day. He and Terry broke up awhile ago, and Steve knows he’s sick for being grateful because Terry is still the nicest girl he’s ever met, but in a way, she’s given Steve his friend back. 

Bucky plays doting son every day after school while Steve sits around uselessly. Sarah still goes to work; there’s no shortage of paperwork to do as a nurse, which is just about the only thing she has enough strength to do these days.

On Christmas, Sarah waits until Bucky leaves (with a kiss to her cheek and a half-hearted ruffling of Steve’s hair) to hand Steve the paperwork to become an emancipated minor.

18

“Ma’s making her favorite spiral ham recipe and now that Becca’s on that vegan diet, there’s gonna be plenty to go around.” Bucky looks at Steve imploringly from his seat across from him at the window nook. Bucky’s socked foot taps Steve’s calf a few times. “Might be good to get out of the house.”

Steve realizes how pathetic he must seem. He’s been wearing the same black hoodie and ratty jeans since they got back from the funeral three days ago. He’s not even sure he’s eaten since then, but then he remembers Bucky forced him to yesterday, so that’s something. God knows there’s enough food to go around. All people seem to bring to the bereaved is casserole dishes and lunch meat platters.

Bucky sighs and leans his head back against the wall. 

It doesn’t even have the decency to be a white Christmas this year. The melodramatic part of Steve’s mind tells him the Earth is in mourning, too.

Steve looks over at Bucky whose eyes are shut. Steve hasn’t thought about kissing Bucky in awhile now. It had felt like maybe that part of Steve had died, too, which he had to admit was a bit of a relief. But it surges forward now to the tips of his fingers. He wants to reach out and press his mouth to Bucky’s, to thank him for everything he’s done. No one else at the age of 18 would do what Bucky’s done for this family that should mean nothing to him, least of all for Steve Rogers, the biggest stick in the mud in the world. It burns his eyes to look at Bucky Barnes. It burns his soul.

He loses time these days, sometimes minutes, sometimes hours. He’s not sure what happens exactly, but he’s suddenly wrapped in Bucky’s arms, pressed against his chest, and heaving out wracking sobs while Bucky breathes mindless comforts in his ear.

Steve wakes in the late afternoon still bundled up against Bucky’s chest in the nook. He extracts himself and apologizes. It can’t have been comfortable for Bucky to sleep like that, which is the least of what Steve feels he should apologize for. 

Later, they make sandwiches and talk about what movie they should watch. In the end, they fall asleep on either end of the couch not having watched anything at all.

19

Peggy is a miracle. It’s hard to believe Steve’s only known her for eight months; it’s a testament to their compatibility. Steve has even stopped thinking of her as a surrogate for Bucky who is an hour away at university getting drunk with his roommate most weekends these days.

Peggy is an exchange student from England and, as such, has nowhere to go for Christmas. Steve has an empty home he now legally owns. It just makes sense. It also makes sense that when Bucky walks in unannounced, he’s immediately apologetic and insists he leaves them alone because he’s clearly interrupted something.

It’s not like that, of course, but how would Bucky know? Steve’s still not told him. In a strange twist, Peggy is now the only living person who knows Steve is gay, which only came about because she initially showed an interest and the only way to curb her enthusiasm was to tell her there really was absolutely no chance in hell. Since then, she’s turned her sights elsewhere. Namely, a poor, unsuspecting junior named Daniel.

But Bucky doesn’t know that. And it takes Steve bodily dragging Bucky back into the house, removing his coat, and shoving a glass of illegally-purchased champagne in his hand before he relents. 

Bucky’s heard of Peggy, of course. Steve basically can’t shut up about her on their weekly Skype calls, but Steve knows Peggy has something about her that’s indescribable until you meet her in person. That must be why Bucky is so reticent throughout the morning, Steve tells himself. The reason he gives Peggy short, stilted answers. Bucky’s not impolite and from an outsider’s perspective he seems downright friendly, but Steve knows better. There’s something about Peggy that Bucky just doesn’t like.

It seems impossible. Peggy is the most brilliant person Steve’s ever met, barring Bucky. Still, Bucky excuses himself just before lunch to go to his mom’s place. Steve’s not sure what he expects, but it’s not that.

And Peggy’s too observant for her own good.

“Was it something I said?” she asks with one of her signature half-smiles. She crooks her eyebrow just so and Steve thinks if he were straight, he’d be a puddle on the floor at her feet.

“No,” Steve replies. Then, “Well, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Peggy sips from her glass and focuses her attention back to the TV that’s playing the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous.”

Jealous? Of Steve? Steve glances over at Peggy and realizes that that must be right because anyone would be jealous of the person hanging off Peggy’s arm, so to speak. Then, it dawns on him.

“Would you ever consider…?” 

Peggy gives Steve a withering glance. “Oh, Steve. Not jealous of _you_.” She tucks a loose curl behind her ear. “And besides, I don’t go after boys my friends are interested in.”

Steve’s face immediately heats up. Has he really been that obvious? If so, has Bucky noticed?

“Wait,” Steve says. “Jealous of you? Are you saying…?”

“Shh, I’m trying to watch,” Peggy interrupts, facing the TV again. Her smirk never quite goes away.

20

Bucky bursts into the dorm room and careens to his bed while half yelling, half singing a garbled Christmas song. It starts as “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” but somehow devolves into “Let It Snow”.

“Steve,” he slurs into his pillow before lifting himself up to look over at him. “Steve, it’s Christmas.”

Steve sighs and concedes that his Art Theory paper will definitely not be getting done tonight. He shuts his laptop and turns to look at Bucky. Wrong move. He’s delightfully drunk, with that familiar rosy-cheeked look about him, his full mouth turned up at the corners as if he’s hearing a very good but very long joke. His hair is handsomely mussed, a wayward curl touching his forehead. Steve itches to push it back. This is exactly why he didn’t want to be roommates with him. It’s also, inevitably, the very reason he agreed.

“Merry Christmas, Buck,” Steve says, leaning back in his chair at the desk. 

Bucky pushes himself up to sit on the bed, never ceasing his drunken smiling at Steve. It almost makes Steve wish he’d gone along to the party after all, but it was mostly RAs (like Bucky) who volunteered to stay on campus for winter break.

Something crosses Bucky’s face, but it’s over too quick to read. Then, Bucky says, “Stevie. I’ve got you a present.”

“Are we doing this now? It’s two in the morning, Buck. People usually wait ‘til the sun is at least up.”

Bucky waves his hand in the air to swat away the very idea of waiting. “No, no, this is… this is important.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Steve says. “So where is it?”

Bucky pats the spot next to him. When Steve doesn’t immediately know what to do, Bucky pats the spot again. “C’mon!” he says. “You have to come up here first.”

Steve rolls his eyes and does as he’s told, situating himself next to Bucky on the tiny bed. 

“Okay, now you have to– You have to close your eyes, okay?” Bucky’s hand goes over Steve’s eyes and brushes down.

“Yeah, all right, pal. I got it,” Steve says and pushes Bucky’s hand away. This is apparently funny to Bucky who laughs through his nose.

When nothing happens for awhile and Bucky doesn’t seem to be moving to get any hidden present, Steve says, “Should I be worried or–”

Then, Bucky’s mouth is on his. It’s warm and reserved and after a moment’s hesitation, Bucky presses in closer. Steve’s whole body warms, starting from the middle of his chest to his fingers. He’s not sure where the rest of his body comes into play, but he’s been dreaming about this for so long that his hands suddenly seem to know what to do, flying to the back of Bucky’s neck to pull him closer. Bucky lets out a small whimper and touches his tongue to the inside of Steve’s teeth. The heat pooling in Steve’s abdomen doesn’t stop him from tasting the stale alcohol and immediately the scene is thrown in sharp relief. Steve pushes Bucky away and throws his hand to his mouth.

“Oh God,” Steve breathes.

Bucky is wide-eyed and for one heart-stopping moment Steve wonders if he was faking the drunkenness. But then Bucky closes his eyes and lists to one side. “I’m sorry, Stevie,” he slurs with his face pressed against the wall.

“It’s… fine,” Steve says. His hands are shaking but he still manages to coax Bucky under his covers.

By some miracle, Bucky remembers nothing the next morning. Steve might not believe him except everything is _so_ normal, Steve’s starting to wonder if he dreamed the whole thing up. But there are incriminating texts from the previous night to Peggy and cryptically unhelpful ones in reply. 

Steve, as guilty as he feels for allowing it to happen in the first place, tells himself he at least has that kiss. A sliver of what could be if things were different.

21

It’s inevitable. Barring some miracle from heaven direct, Steve will eventually like a boy that’s not Bucky and he will have to tell Bucky the truth. But the longer he puts it off, the more it seems impossible to tell him. Besides, not many guys are hitting on a closeted, underweight, asthmatic 20-year-old. Except suddenly there’s Sam and he’s remarkably funny and smart and outgoing. To top it all off, Sam is gay. He jokes about it like it’s nothing, overt and loud and in-your-face. His personality is infectiously happy and he can fit into any social situation like he’s been there for decades.

Best of all, Bucky likes him. Likes him in spite of the fact that Sam doesn’t hide who he is. It’s heartening to see, although Steve’s not sure why he expected anything less. 

Sam sticks around for winter break and while Bucky’s helping one of the few students who didn’t leave for break deal with her criminally insane roommate, Sam and Steve get comfortable in the common space with a deck of cards. 

One moment they’re having an intense game of Go Fish, the next Steve is straddling Sam’s lap and kissing him like it’s the end of the world.

Which is exactly how Bucky finds them. Bucky makes some pathetic, embarrassed noise before excusing himself with some mumbled mention of a resident issue. Steve buries his red face against Sam’s shoulder while Sam laughs loudly. It takes another 15 minutes for Sam to convince Steve he needs to go talk to his roommate.

Bucky doesn’t even let Steve get a word out before he’s apologizing, possibly more red in the face than Steve, although it’s a close thing.

“Buck, it’s fine. I should be apologizing. It was the common room, for fuck’s sake.” Steve rubs the back of his neck.

“But I… I should’ve knocked or–”

“Knocked on what? The nonexistent door? Could we just… Can we sit?” 

Bucky gives Steve a desperate look before sitting on his bed. Steve sits across from him on his own and lets out a long breath. “I guess… I’m gay,” Steve says.

“You guess?” Bucky cracks a smile that Steve can’t help but roll his eyes at.

“I don’t guess. Sorry. I’m gay. I’m really, really gay.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says and rubs his eyes tiredly. “I’m getting that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Bucky waves his hand. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’re my best friend and you shouldn’t have had to find out by walking in on… that.”

There’s a pause and then Bucky snorts a laugh. “That was pretty shocking, I’ll be honest.” His head shoots up as he realizes what he’s said. “Not that it’s shocking that you’re doing… that. That it’s Sam or… That it’s… I just mean–”

“Christ, Bucky, it’s fine. I get it. And I’m sorry. And if you want me to get my own room or… something. I don’t know how that works. But I’d understand.”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinch in the middle of his forehead. “Oh,” he says. “Is that… do you want to…?”

“No!” Steve says quickly. He clears his throat. “No. I just figured. Maybe. If you weren’t comfortable.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Steve, you gotta know I’d never think about you any differently. Course you can stay here. I mean, unless you and Sam wanted to get a place or something?”

“What? Me and Sam?” Steve chews on his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Not sure Sam’s the moving-in type, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh. You mean… you’re not _together_ or whatever.”

Steve lets out a short laugh. “No. Sam’s nice and all, but he’s–”

“Sam,” Bucky finishes.

“Right.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Bucky says. He immediately turns red again. “I just mean, it’s a relief that I wasn’t as completely blind as I thought. Unless… this hasn’t been going on for that long, has it?”

“No, that would be my first…” Steve wants to say ‘kiss with another guy’, but that’s not true because _Bucky_ kissed him first. “Just then, that’s it,” Steve says instead.

“Ever?”

“Um, yeah,” Steve says and it’s hard not to feel completely humiliated by his lack of experience here. Especially in the wake of Bucky who maybe hasn’t had a stable girl since high school, but keeps a fairly regular schedule of week-long trysts before they fizzle out and he devotes himself to his studies again. 

“Well, congrats, I guess. And I’m sorry I totally and completely ruined it for you.” He has the decency to look shamefaced about it.

“You know Sam well enough to know that’s not true in the slightest,” Steve points out.

Bucky nods. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

As if on cue, Sam peaks through the doorway of their room; they’ve been leaving it open during the day so any residents can easily find Bucky. “Hey, I was gonna go grab a slice from Tony’s. You guys wanna join?”

“Sure!” Steve says, happy to be talking about anything but his love life. He turns to Bucky expectantly at the door when he doesn’t move from his bed.

“You guys go ahead,” Bucky says, waving his hand. “I’m not hungry.”

Steve frowns. Bucky denying himself a trip to Tony’s usually means something serious is wrong. “Bring you back something?” Steve offers.

“Yeah, sure. You know what I like.” Bucky smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Steve chocks it up to his having seen his best friend straddling his other friend not five minutes ago. It’d make anyone’s stomach a little topsy-turvy, Steve reasons with himself as they head out.

22

Steve looks around at the crowd of people dancing and laughing and shouting in groups throughout the frat house and wonders how exactly he got here. Not literally – he came with Sam. But he wonders how he got to this point. The point where he’s standing in a frat house surrounded by people and not only is he not crawling out of his skin, but he’s actually enjoying himself.

He should’ve come out of the closet years ago. He could’ve been coming to this little-known and well-loved annual LGBT Christmas party. It feels nice not having to act a certain way while surrounded by people he doesn’t know.

Sam snakes through the crowd toward him and hands him a red Solo cup, like it’s straight from a movie or something. “Wanna dance?” Sam shouts over the loud, thumping music.

“Do you know me at all?” Steve shouts back and Sam rolls his eyes before sauntering off to drag some other unsuspecting guy onto the dance floor.

There’s only one guy who has ever convinced Steve to join him for a dance, and Bucky is home for Christmas. It’s been a strange year for their friendship. Bucky’s focused on graduating with a double major and straight A’s, so their time spent together is nearly nonexistent. Steve tries not to read too much into it, but it’s hard to deny that there’s a pattern, one that seems related, inexplicably, to Sam. 

Since last Christmas, Steve and Sam have made out a few times, when they’re just tipsy enough to ignore the fact that they are very, very not good together. They’ve even given each other hand jobs two or three times. But, as Sam is wont to remind Steve, he’s not looking for anything serious. Steve’s also pretty sure Sam’s noticed his obvious affection for Bucky, but he’s nice enough not to bring it up. 

But Bucky seems to have soured on Sam. Whenever he’s around, Bucky finds a reason to leave, whether it’s in the common area or the dining hall or a party. If Sam’s noticed, which he must have unless he’s truly oblivious, then he hasn’t said anything. Maybe there was an argument Steve missed and now they want to pretend it never happened.

Whatever the case is, Steve’s been missing his best friend. Alcohol and feeling sorry for himself has always been a poor combination and by the time midnight rolls around and the crowd drunkenly counts down to Christmas, Steve has his tongue in the mouth of a guy whose name he doesn’t even know. He’s just coherent enough to realize, a few minutes into their sloppy make out session, that his phone is buzzing in his pocket.

He’s able to escape outside in the biting cold and answer just in time to hear Bucky say, soft and low, “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

Steve sits heavily on the bottom stair leading up to the house. There’s something comforting about the muted thump of the bass from the house in contrast to the dark quiet outside.

Steve hums a note and says, “You too, Buck.” He pulls his jacket closer. At least the cold has sobered him a little.

“You go to that party thing?”

“Yeah. I’m here now.”

“Oh, shit, sorry. Should’ve realized…”

Steve shakes his head. “I stepped outside, don’t worry about. Besides, you may have saved me from something I’d’ve regretted in the morning.” Steve freezes when he realizes what he’s said. As a rule, they don’t talk about this stuff. Steve never mentions anything and Bucky never asks. It’s easier that way.

Bucky snorts a laugh that statics the phone. “Glad I could help,” he says. “Anyone I know?”

Steve relaxes again and says, “No one _I_ know.”

“Christ, Stevie. You’re a regular Casanova, huh?”

“Yeah, you know me. Total heartbreaker right here.”

There’s a long silence during which Steve’s sluggish brain tries to come up with something to say. Bucky beats him there: “I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Steve closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose but he’s still not sure what Bucky means by that. “What?”

“I don’t know you,” Bucky says. He’s so quiet Steve has to press the phone hard against his face. He puts up the hood of his jacket to block out the sound from the house.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks with a small laugh. Of all the people in the world, Bucky knows him the best. No one else even comes close.

Bucky makes a frustrated noise on the other line. “Ever since… I haven’t been there. I should’ve… said something. I don’t know. But I didn’t and now we don’t talk. And I know it’s my fault. This year has been such shit and I’ve been distant and I’m really sorry and I just wanted you to know that I’m gonna do better now. I promise, okay, Stevie?”

Steve blinks a few times and lets those words sink in. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Sure, Buck. But you’re fine. You’re not… distant.”

Bucky scoffs. “You don’t gotta lie to me, pal. Jeez, is that how bad it’s been? You can’t even call me out on my bullshit anymore?”

“Well, I just figured it was school and… I don’t know.”

“God knows I never let school get in the way before. Look, point is – next year. Next year I’m gonna be better, okay? And I guess, while I’m being real honest about my feelings and all that, I ought to just ask. You wanna get an apartment or something together? I mean, we’ll both be going to grad school, so it’d make sense, but I also get if you’d rather get your own place. I just figured it’d be easier, but I also haven’t exactly been the best roommate in the world lately and maybe you’re just counting down the days until you don’t have to wake up to my ugly mug anymore–”

“Christ, are you drunk or am I?” Steve cuts in.

Bucky laughs. “Sorry. Sorry. I’ll stop. I’ve just had a lot of time to think.”

“Yeah. Must be tough. I know you only have a thought about once a year.”

“Fuck you, too, pal.”

“I’d love to get an apartment with you, for the record. Was gonna ask you myself but I figured we had a semester left.”

“Yeah, right. Jumping the gun.”

The line goes quiet again. Steve is ten times lighter than he’s felt all year and he suddenly wants to do something about it. He’s just tipsy enough that if Bucky were there, he’d throw his arms around him and hug him like he hasn’t since they were in middle school. Fortunately, he’s an hour away.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to the party. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Bucky says.

Steve snorts. “Too late,” he mumbles.

“At least get his name first,” Bucky admonishes. “And Merry Christmas. Again.”

“Merry Christmas, Buck.”

23

“Maybe I’ll be a writer instead,” Bucky says.

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years,” Steve replies. He glances back to find that Bucky has left his desk to lay prostrate on their living room couch, one arm hanging off the edge clutching a half-empty beer bottle.

“Architecture? Who studies _architecture_?” Bucky makes a face at the ceiling.

“Architects, I’d imagine,” Steve says. He’s been staring at the same paragraph of his paper now for fifteen straight minutes with no progress. “And you like architecture.”

Bucky rolls over on his stomach and gives Steve a mournful look. “I know. It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“Terrible,” Steve agrees. He gets up from his desk and bats at Bucky’s leg until he’s sitting like a normal person on their couch.

“It’s Christmas,” Bucky says. “Can we take a break?”

“No one’s stopping you,” Steve points out as he hunts for his Art Theory book he knows he put under the coffee table last night.

“I said _we_ ,” Bucky says. “Please?”

Steve sighs and looks at Bucky. “What did you have in mind?”

Bucky shrugs a shoulder and then says, “We could go to a bar? Get drunk?”

“A very merry Christmas indeed,” Steve mutters under his breath as he finally finds the book and drags it onto his lap. “It’s not even 12 yet, Buck.”

“All right, better idea: we order Chinese and marathon something on Netflix.”

“That,” Steve says, dropping the textbook on the coffee table, “is definitely more my speed. You order, I’ll Netflix.”

Bucky raises a celebratory fist in the air.

Later that evening after leftovers and too many episodes of _Doctor Who_ , Bucky breaks out an entire bottle of Vodka that Steve swears wasn’t in their apartment the day before. “Wanna play a drinking game?” He takes a swig straight from the bottle, wincing as it goes down.

“Jesus,” Steve says. “You tryna drown your sorrows?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah, nothing like that. Thought it’d be fun.” He hands the bottle to Steve who knows he’s holding a big bottle of regret in his hand, but still takes a drink anyway.

In the end, they play a loose drinking game that quickly devolves into them drinking anytime the Doctor says anything at all because they’ve forgotten the rules twenty minutes in. 

Steve wakes the next morning with the worst headache he’s ever had. After emptying the meager contents of his stomach no less than three times, he finally ventures out into the living room to find Bucky already awake. He looks how Steve feels with his hood pulled up, curled up in a tight ball in the corner of the couch, bags under his eyes, and slightly pale. As soon as he spots Steve, he straightens up, pulls his hood down, and gains a little color in his cheeks.

“Hey,” he says.

Steve groans in response before crashing on the couch. “Remind me to never drink with you again,” Steve says.

Bucky lets out a stilted laugh. “Yeah, right. Sorry. I’m pretty miserable, too.”

“How long did we stay up?” Steve asks. He looks around their living room for signs of damage, but it all looks pretty much the same.

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. Finally, he says, “You don’t remember?” 

Steve rubs his eyes tiredly and shakes his head. “I remember…” he sloshes through his memories, but everything’s vaguely blurry and most of it’s missing altogether. “Pretty sure we got to the episode about the, um, fart… aliens.”

“Slitheen.”

“Sure.”

“We were… we stayed up a little bit after that,” Bucky says. “But you don’t… you really don’t remember?”

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “Sorry. Did I do something embarrassing?”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“Did _you_ do something embarrassing?”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, that’s more accurate. I may have… said some things. It doesn’t matter.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

24

It’s the first Christmas Steve’s ever spent alone and he didn’t think it would get to him, but now it’s nearing 11 and he realizes he has nowhere to be and no one to talk to and it is very depressing.

Peggy is nice enough to Skype from London where she’s staying with her folks. That’s a nice distraction, but it doesn’t last. Then Sam calls from Colorado where he and his (long-term!) boyfriend Riley are renting a cabin. 

Bucky’s visiting his mom this year. Steve was invited, but he doesn’t think he can go back to that neighborhood, certainly not around Christmastime. After he sold his mom’s house when he graduated high school, he never looked back, which is part of the reason why Bucky always stayed behind on Christmas in college. He knows how hard it is for Steve around this time of year. So Steve declined the invitation and ensured Bucky he wouldn’t mope around all day (although he’s been doing just that).

He thinks about calling up one of his few friends from his grad classes, but he can’t imagine any of them are free to hang out on Christmas day. He’s a few episodes deep into a _Parks & Rec_ marathon when there’s a knock at the door. Steve checks his phone, but there’s nothing. Maybe a neighbor, then.

He opens the door and is frozen for a full second before his brain kicks back in. “Bucky?”

“Hi,” Bucky says. He’s out of breath and his cheeks are pleasantly red. “Sorry. The key was all the way in my bag. Didn’t want to go digging.”

“Uh. Okay. What… are you doing here?” Steve steps back to let Bucky through. He’s dragging his suitcase and he has his backpack on. It’s as if he never even made it to his mom’s house at all. “Is everything okay? Is your mom–?”

“She’s fine!” Bucky cuts in as he puts his things down. “I’m fine. Becca’s fine. Everyone’s fine.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” Bucky turns to Steve with his hands on his hips.

“So you’re here because…?”

“Well, I got home and I walked inside and everyone was there, y’know. Becca and Ma and it was perfect. Well, not perfect. Um, because I realized I left something behind.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “You could’ve called. I would’ve met you halfway.”

Bucky laughs, a little breathless. “Um. It’s not– I don’t know how to– It’s–”

“You sure everything’s okay, Buck?”

Bucky takes a few steps toward Steve until they’re practically toe-to-toe. Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He’s rarely been this close to Bucky, so close he can see the flecks of brown in his eyes. Bucky’s hand touches the side of Steve’s neck and his thumb runs across his jaw. Steve knows he should step back and break this before he can’t stop himself, but he’s not the one who initiated whatever this is.

Bucky leans in and presses the very ghost of a kiss to Steve’s mouth. Steve’s eyes close of their own volition and he sinks into the kiss, as chaste as it is. It’s over too soon. Bucky pulls back and Steve gets to see his hooded eyes pull up slowly, so slowly, maybe afraid of what he’ll see on Steve’s face.

“Buck…”

Bucky swallows and he looks suddenly abashed, looking down instead of at Steve. His hand hasn’t left Steve’s neck and they’re still close enough that Steve can feel the warmth radiating off of Bucky.

“You’re not drunk again, are you?” Steve asks quietly, only half-joking.

Bucky’s eyes flick up. “Again? Wait. _Again_? What does that–?”

Steve surges forward and traps Bucky’s open mouth in a kiss. Bucky responds enthusiastically, his other hand wrapping around the small of Steve’s back to pull him closer. The hand on Steve’s neck goes to the back of his head and tangles up in his hair. Steve’s own hands clutch the fabric of Bucky’s sweater at his sides. 

Bucky breaks the kiss again. Steve nearly has a heart attack looking up at him afterward, his lips parted and pink and breathless – all Steve’s doing.

“ _Again_?” Bucky repeats.

Steve laughs lightly. “Yeah, you were drunk?”

“Last year? Shit, I thought I remembered all the dumb shit I told you. I didn’t think I’d actually do anything–”

“No, no, this was a few years ago. In college.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. “What the hell…”

“Wait, what did you tell me last year?” Steve asks.

A smile curls Bucky’s mouth up at the edges. “Just that I thought I was in love with you and maybe, if you felt the same, we could do something about it.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “What– What the hell did I say?”

“After a striking rendition of the Doctor Who theme song, you told me we’d talk about it in the morning. Then you passed out.”

“You didn’t say anything!”

Bucky shrugs a shoulder. “I figured… we were both drunk. I mean, I meant what I said. As… classless as it was. But you were really, really drunk. And then you didn’t remember, so I figured you were just being polite, y’know. Letting me down easy.”

“Christ, Bucky, no.”

“Wait, so I kissed you before?”

“Yeah.”

“Go me.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Buck…”

“I’m serious. And I’m sorry it took so long, Steve. I just thought… And I didn’t know myself at all. But you make me a little crazy. The way you- you look. The way you talk, the way you put up with my dumb ass. And, if you’ll have me…”

“God, yes,” Steve breathes before pulling Bucky down to kiss him again. He opens his mouth needily and Bucky’s tongue dipping in is almost too much for Steve to handle. They kiss, all need and want and hungry desire.

When they break apart, Bucky keeps his eyes closed and his forehead pressed to Steve’s. “Sorry,” he says. “I need to…” He shifts slightly and Steve realizes Bucky’s hard in his jeans. A flood of warmth pools in Steve’s middle. He can’t help but close the distance to kiss Bucky briefly. 

“You want to…?” Steve tugs Bucky towards the couch and he lays down obediently so Steve can straddle him, his hands holding him up on either side of Bucky’s head. 

“I think I’m dreaming,” Bucky says.

“Yeah? You dream about this a lot?” Steve asks. He traces a hand down Bucky’s front and plays with the bottom hem of his sweater. When his fingertips brush the skin of his belly, Bucky actually twitches. 

“More than I’d care to admit,” Bucky says. He’s watching Steve’s every move like he’s living for it.

Steve pauses and flicks his eyes up. “Wait, seriously?”

Bucky looks up at Steve. “You ever wonder why I haven’t had a girlfriend in a year? Why I couldn’t hold one down in college? Why Sam made me want to set the whole world on fire?”

Steve leans back. “Sam?”

Bucky lets out a breath. “He said we were both obtuse, but I didn’t realize how right he was at the time.”

“Are you telling me… you were _jealous_ of Sam? That’s why you avoided him like the plague?”

“That about sums it up, yeah. I just thought… he gets to do all these things with you. For the first time. And at the time I thought I was just… confused, y’know? Because it’d always been you and me. God, I was an idiot.” Bucky rubs his eyes. “Took me awhile to figure out being jealous because your best friend is sleeping with other guys means he might not be just a _best friend_.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Neither did you.”

“But you’re not gay!”

Bucky makes a face. “I think bisexual? I don’t know. This is new. It’s…” He turns red and his eyes dart to the side. “I’ve never done… any of this. With a guy. Never wanted to, really. Not even with girls, but…” Bucky shrugs a shoulder again. “Girls are easy. Not _easy_. But just… nice. Soft. I don’t know, this sounds stupid. But they always liked me and I just thought, maybe if I find the right one, it’ll be different.”

“Buck.”

“What?”

“I think you might be gay.”

“Yeah, I’m hearing myself for the first time and it’s… can we not talk about this right now?”

“Gladly.” Steve kisses Bucky. His hand slips up Bucky’s sweater to touch his chest. He brushes his thumb over his nipple and Bucky lets out a satisfied little moan, but it’s nothing compared to the noise Bucky makes when Steve drops his hips and grinds against Bucky.

“Fuck,” Bucky gasps out, his eyes rolling up. “I’m gonna come in my pants if you don’t do something about this soon,” he says.

Steve hums in agreement and slinks down to undo Bucky’s belt and pull his jeans down a few inches. The tip is peeking out from the top of Bucky’s boxerbriefs, red and leaking. Steve pushes down the fabric and gives himself a second to appreciate Bucky’s cock before licking a stripe from shaft to tip.

Bucky’s hand flies to the back of Steve’s head and he grips his hair tight, letting out a slew of curse words in between breathy moans and Steve’s name. Steve glances up to find Bucky has his head turned to the side, his arm thrown over his eyes.

“What, you’re not gonna watch?” Steve asks playfully, pressing a soft kiss to the tip.

Bucky lets out a soft whimper. “If I look, I’m done for, I swear to God, Steve.”

“My head’s gonna be three times bigger by the time we’re done,” Steve mutters, mostly to himself, although Bucky gives a breathy laugh. Steve licks another stripe before finally taking it into his mouth. It’s thick and heavy on his tongue and Steve can barely get half in his mouth before his gag reflex revolts, but Bucky sounds more than pleased regardless. It takes barely a minute of bobbing up and down before Bucky’s breathing goes quick, his abs tighten, and he comes. Steve pulls off and helps him through, stroking with his hand as Bucky rides out his orgasm. 

Steve crawls back up to retrieve slow, tired kisses from Bucky who looks so blissed-out, it’s nearly comical. Steve leaves soft kisses on Bucky’s jaw, the side of his neck, his throat. “Was that good?” Steve asks in barely a whisper.

“I think I died,” Bucky replies. Steve laughs. “I died and went to heaven. _God_ , Steve.”

Steve loses track of time as they kiss, every sense focused on the feel of Bucky’s hands on his neck, his sides, his back, then – his stomach, his hips. Bucky’s hand clumsily undoes Steve’s fly and tugs at his jeans just enough to slip his hand down past the course hair at the base of Steve’s cock and take him in hand. Steve lets out a low groan and drops his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathes and he strokes up Steve’s length. His fingers are careful and soft and not nearly slick enough, but Steve thinks he’d rather die than stop Bucky to get some lube. Because it’s _Bucky_ and Bucky’s hand, Bucky’s fingertips, Bucky’s grip on Steve. He’s soft, sweet and Steve can tell he’s testing it out and Steve is more than happy to help him along, moaning when Bucky twists his wrist just so, encouraging his speed by thrusting in time with the soft pull of his hand. Steve comes quickly, suddenly and with Bucky’s name on his lips, muffled into Bucky’s neck like a prayer.

Steve collapses gracelessly on top of Bucky who lets out an _oof_ before wrapping Steve up in his arms. Steve makes a face at the feel of slick between them and he tucks himself back in his jeans before getting comfortable again, tucked against the back of the couch, nose-to-nose with Bucky. 

Steve’s having a sappy, melodramatic moment staring into Bucky’s eyes when Bucky crosses them and sticks out his tongue. Steve rolls his eyes. “Asshole,” he mutters.

Bucky laughs and pulls Steve impossibly closer. “You love me for it.”

Steve’s eyes soften and a smile pulls at his mouth. “Yeah, I do,” he says. Bucky’s eyes go wide and Steve cringes. “Sorry. Too soon?”

“No, it’s just…” Bucky chews the inside of his lip for a long moment. “Be my boyfriend?”

It’s Steve turn to be surprised, his heart hammering against his chest about a mile a minute. His mouth finally catches up with his brain: “Yes. Yes! Bucky, yes!”

Bucky grins and it’s the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever seen. “Good.”

They bask in the glow of each other’s warmth and Steve is just about to nod off when Bucky nuzzles close and says, “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays!
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://bartlebies.tumblr.com).


End file.
